


It Starts With a Smile

by DinoDina



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Crushes, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 16:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17770544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinoDina/pseuds/DinoDina
Summary: It figures that Todd has a crush on his roommate. But how can he not, when Neil's kind and pretty and maybe, just maybe, likes him back?





	It Starts With a Smile

Todd's gone the moment Neil puts on his glasses and smiles. He's on his way to the first "study group" of the year—which, now that he's sees Neil prepare for it—Todd's feeling a bit sorry to miss. It wouldn't be right to tell Neil he's changed his mind, however, and less right to tell him  _why_.

He watches Neil leave and he's fine, he really is. He's spent this long without friends, and at least this roommate is nice—and gorgeous. Neil's smile lightens the air and sends sparks through Todd's heart. It's cliché, yes, like something out of their English textbook, but that's why poetry's written.

It's later, when Mr. Keating has made a poet out of him, that Todd can look straight at Neil and admit his feelings. To himself. In his head. Nothing special, but it's an achievement. A yawp, technically, if he looks at it through Keating's eyes; a great barbaric yawp for a great barbaric thought.

Neil sends his desk set flying and Todd's heart flies with it. He's not Knox—these boys have grown on him, damn it all—but he pathetically loves this kind, beautiful boy that doesn't give up on him.

Todd laughs at he realizes; from the other side of the room, Neil looks up and grins. He's monologuing, so close to finally memorizing his lines, and Todd applauds him. Just a bit, enough that Neil feels happy but not too much for fear of scaring him off.

Neil takes off his glasses and tilts his head. "How was it?"

Todd flounders for a bit, hoping it's enough to convey his admiration, but lets out a little laugh so he isn't misunderstood. "Great."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Neil closes his script and starts again.

Todd could watch him forever. It's better than the trig, he justifies, closing his textbook and leaning forward to listen. Neil glows when he acts: he's not pretending to be Puck, he  _is_  Puck. Wild, happy, free in a way he can never truly be. Todd empathizes: he feels it too. The walls of Hellton, his inability to talk in public, the heavy knowledge of his queerness hanging over his head.

"Did you write anything good?" Neil asks him later, when they get back from dinner and are getting ready for bed. He gestures to the stack of notebooks on Todd's desk and raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, I... no, not really." Todd laughs and calculates the social suicide of his next statement. "I was watching you, didn't really focus on the writing."

Neil grins and ducks his head; Todd tries not to stare at his eyelashes.

"I… I was, really. You were really good." He looks down, too.

"Thanks."

They're both still looking down—Todd can feel it—but he feels the change in the air when Neil steps closer, feels it further when Neil hugs him. He tries not to grin too much as they hold each other, stepping away sooner than he wants to but after too much time for the hug to have been appropriate.

Things change after that.

Todd feels it the next morning, but not in the way he feared. He went to bed with a pit of anxiety in his chest; they'd hugged for too long, Neil felt his smile… but Neil's his usual cheerful morning self, throwing Todd his books and clothes and slinging an arm over his shoulder as they leave the room.

If anything, Neil leaves his hand on Todd's shoulder longer than usual, far too long for it to be normal. The smiles he throws Todd are brighter and longer, the sparkle in his eyes brighter, the mischief more personal.

Their hands brush together when they're trying to navigate the showers in the evening. When Todd throws a shy, curious look at Neil, Neil's smile is ready and waiting. Ridiculous. Todd scoffs at himself as he brushes his teeth: it's all in his head. Neil's a friendly person, Todd's just his roommate.

But the earnest way Neil says "Goodnight"—well, that's harder to ignore. It's not even earnest, not really. It's  _more_. Todd's a young, inexperienced queer—he tells himself that when he feels guilty, because what's wrong with a crush on such a perfect boy as Neil?—but he can  _feel_  that something's different.

Good-different.

"Goodnight," he says back, fighting a grin.

Neil laughs in that free way of his and turns off the lights.

_What are we?_  Todd wants to ask after several days of this. Neil's the friendliest guy he knows—not that he knows many guys—but this is different. It's almost as if Neil's trying to tell him something.

Almost as if Neil likes him back.

That's impossible, though, even if Neil compliments his eyes. And his smile. Neil's the one with the gorgeous eyes and smile. Neither his eyes nor smile wane when his father comes to visit, or when the Dead Poets Society almost gets discovered, or when Cameron makes a snide remark about how close they're standing.

"Hey, Todd?" Neil says when the play's over; this is the  _but_  of Todd's life: the change in Neil's voice, the slight nervousness he emits as he speaks—something's changing, something important, and if Todd can only figure out  _what_ …

"Hmm?" Todd asks. He's been pushed off to the side amid Neil's fans and other friends, but he selfishly thinks that Neil's gaze, now, directed at him, is special.

"Come outside for a bit." Neil tilts his head to the door, eyes widening expectantly in a way that Todd can't resist. "Come on."

Todd nods and follows. It's easy to slip through the crowd—he's always been good at being invisible, at least until he met Neil, but it seems that Neil is a total enigma—and soon they're leaning against the door, snow falling lightly around them and the music from the celebration party drifting out of the open window.

Neil did good. The perfect Puck, the perfect friend—and the perfect son, even if his father left before they returned to the school.

"What's up?" Todd asks, looking up to meet Neil's eyes.

"Todd, are you…" Neil stops and takes a breath. Neil never looks hopeless, no matter what happens, but he's more nervous than he was inside; Todd's nervous now, too, which isn't exactly  _new_. He's used to it and smiles in what he hopes is similar to the way Neil does when he's the one freaking out.

"What's up?" he says again.

"Todd, are you queer?"

"Ye—" Todd's breath stops in his chest and his arms raise defensively as he takes a step back. That's what he gets for not thinking, for getting too familiar with Neil, for forgetting—for a second, a single impulsive second—that it's not  _right_.

But then Neil smiles and relaxes, and he whispers a single, relieved, "Good."

They kiss that night for the first time, when everyone's left the room. It's dark, but they don't need the light to see each other, to feel each other; they're timid, both from fear and inexperience, but they fit together perfectly; they hold each other's hands and kiss some more.

Todd's still smiling the next day; he giggles when their eyes meet at breakfast and doesn't care about the look Charlie sends him.

He's very much gone for Neil, but if the evidence is to be believed, Neil's pretty gone for him, too, and that Todd can quite happily live with.


End file.
